


Rosemary's Story

by TheSecondBatgirl



Category: The Giver - Lowry
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 04:25:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSecondBatgirl/pseuds/TheSecondBatgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But comfort animals aren't real," she said in confusion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rosemary's Story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aradiachiba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aradiachiba/gifts).



Rosemary approached the ceremony of the The Twelves with a feeling of apprehension. She knew that she had fulfilled all of her requirements, and she was hoping that she would be given an assignment as a Nurturer. She had done many of her hours as a Nurturer, and she thought that the committee had made note of it.

 

She sat between Joshua and Elaine. She was Number Seven, so at least she would not have that long to wait. She smiled and applauded for her classmates as they were given their assignments. She could tell that Joshua was pleased by his assignment, he would make a very good speaker, she was sure. She got ready to stand up, but instead she heard the Chief Elder say Elaine’s name and number.

 

Rosemary glanced over at her father, who sat with the other Elders. This had to be some sort of mistake. He would surely speak up for her. She could hear the murmurs from the other members of the community, but her father just sat in his seat, and she could not figure out what feeling was showing on his face.

 

After the last new Twelve was called, she was summoned on stage. She accepted the Chief Elder’s apology, but she couldn’t stop looking at her father. She barely registered what the Chief Elder was saying – she had been selected as the new Receiver of Memory? How could she possibly replace her father?

 

When the ceremony was over, Rosemary didn’t stay to receive the congratulations of her classmates. She didn’t know what to think. Her father appeared by her side.

 

“Come, Rosemary,” he said, and that strange expression was in his eyes again. “It’s time for us to go home.”

 

*

 

Rosemary wasn’t sure what she should expect when she made her way over to her father’s annex. She had always been forbidden to enter before. She knew that only the Receiver was allowed in there. She had always felt a slight curiosity as to what her father did, but she had long ago resigned herself to not knowing.

 

When the door unlocked, she saw her father sitting in a chair, and there were more books in this room than she had ever seen before.

 

“You’re here,” her father said, approvingly. “I should have waited for you this morning, but I thought you might have needed the time.”

 

“The rules were not quite what I was expecting,” Rosemary admitted.

 

“Most things won’t be,” her father said. He let out a deep breath. “I suppose the only thing that we can do is begin. You’ll have to lie on your stomach.” He paused for a moment, and then continued. “And pull your tunic down enough that I can touch your back.”

 

Rosemary did what her father said, although she wasn’t sure what his instructions were for, and what they had to do with his job. She didn’t know quite what her father did, and he had never been able to ask her, and she had been forbidden to volunteer with him.

 

She felt her father’s hands, cool against her skin, and her eyes closed. She saw a little girl, with eyes as light as her own, holding some sort of comfort animal. _A cat_, the word came, but unlike the comfort animals, this one was alive. It made a sound of contentment _purring_ in the girl’s arms, and then it leapt out to chase a ball.

 

Her eyes opened, and she turned her head to see her father sitting back in his chair.

 

“But comfort animals aren’t real,” she said in confusion.

 

“Not anymore,” her father agreed.

 

“Still,” Rosemary said, after a moment. “I think I would have liked one.”

 

*

 

As the days went by, Rosemary learned more and more about what her father did, and she got more memories. She could see colors now, although not all the time. Her father shared with her such beautiful things, and she wanted more of them.

 

“Father,” she asked one day towards the end of her third week of training. “Why can’t everyone have these memories? I’m sure that more people would like to see the rainbow.”

 

“There aren’t all good memories,” her father answered softly.

 

Rosemary looked at him, her eyes meeting his own. “Then share some of those with me. I want to understand.”

 

“You aren’t quite ready,” he told her.

 

“Show me,” she repeated, and she lay down on the bed again.

 

The scene that her father’s touch brought her was a familiar one – she had seen families before. But there was something different about this one. A sadness was in the air, and the people seemed to be feeling fear. There was a knock at the door, and the mother jumped, holding her child tight. The door opened, and two men came in. One of them pulled the child out of the mother’s arms, and she let out a sob as she reached out to her son, who was crying out her name.

 

Rosemary began to cry as her father’s hands moved off of her back.

 

“Why would they take someone from their family?” she asked through her tears. “How could anyone do that?”

 

Her father didn’t answer, but instead he wrapped his arms around her, as the mother in that last memory had done. Rosemary clung to him, taking the comfort that he was offering.

 

*

 

When she left her father’s annex, she went straight to ask for Release. She didn’t want any more of those memories. She did not want to have to keep them for years until there was another Receiver. This was not the life for her. She had only wanted to be a nurturer.

 

“Please roll up your sleeve,” she was told.

 

Rosemary did as she was told.  “I can inject myself,” she told him, understanding what it meant to ask for release.

 

As she put the needle into her arm, she finally understood what the feeling that she had seen in her father’s eyes was. It was the same feeling that the mother had shown in that memory.

  
It was love.


End file.
